Unbelievable
by awordycontradiction
Summary: "I was always on the fence, of course." She turned back to him, and the smile she gave Jake made him feel like he was choking all over again. "Of course," he agreed.


Amy Santiago opened her front door, sheer relief brightening her features. Her partner, who was never one to spare her feelings, gaped at her with an amused smile playing on his big mouth. She gently rolled her eyes while tugging him through the threshold by his sleeve.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" She half shouted. Her gratitude rushing out in one breath.

Jake shrugged off his jacket, sighing as he did so. His demeanor was meant to look _put out_, but Amy knew he had zero plans, so she didn't feel that bad about disrupting his night.

"What's that smell?" Jake asked, wrinkling his nose.

Amy paled. "Chicken. _Why_?" Her fear caused Jake to chuckle to himself.

"It smells... _good_," he lied, scratching the back of his neck. "So can you explain now?"

Swallowing, Amy nodded while signaling for him to follow her through the tiny living room towards the kitchen. She didn't speak, but took down two wine glasses, filling both with a white liquid, – giving herself _way_ more – and handed it over to him.

When Jake got her call earlier that evening, he was surprised to say the least. Amy rarely spoke to him on off hours, this was only his third visit to her _retirement home looking_ apartment. She didn't tell him why she needed him, but there was some urgency in her voice she couldn't scrap, and Jake's curiosity always outweighed the rest of him.

Amy chugged half the glass before meeting Jake's eye.

"Okay." She sucked in a breath. "Don't be mad, but I kinda told my mother that we were dating."

Jake stared blankly at his partner. The wine glass forgotten, the _not_ so appetizing smell of chicken no longer the source of his queasy stomach. "What?" He muttered numbly.

Amy groaned, her head falling into her hands.

"I know this is so unprofessional and we're not even_ that _close to begin with – but, my mom's best friend, Lola, caught me having drinks with this guy last night," – Amy shot Jake a look – "_don't_ ask. And when my mom called me, thrilled that I had my first date in god knows how long, the only name that popped into my head was... well, _yours_." She chanced a look up at Jake.

He couldn't take his eyes off her, but the deer in the headlights glow was fading and a sinister smile spread. "You were thinking about _me_, Santiago?" Jake winked.

Amy grimaced. "_Hardly_." She crossed her arms, assuring him.

"But I had just hung up on you, while we were fighting over who got to interview that sleaze who was running that dog fighting ring – and I was still really annoyed and I just... said your name." Amy shrugged.

Jake placed down the glass and crossed his arms. "So I'm here_ because_...?"

Frowning again, Amy took a step towards him. "Because my mother is dropping by after her bingo night and said she wanted to meet you."

It was Peralta's turn to blanch. "Oh god._ God_ – Amy, no. I'm not good with parents." He placed his hands out in front of him, keeping her at a distance. "Why couldn't she meet the guy you were actually having drinks with?"

Amy ran a hand through her hair. Jake noticed that she wore it down. The dark, raven strains caught the light from the overhead beam, making the shoulder length locks shimmer. Jake's throat tightened. This was _exactly_ what he wanted.

He knew that family meant a lot to Amy, and if he could win over her parents, maybe she'd see he was changing, that he wasn't just her goofy, childish partner anymore. But not this way. Not ambushed, filling in for someone else. Someone Amyactually _wanted_ to be with.

"It's going well with Ian. I don't want my mom to scare him off. That's why I need you. Please Peralta, I'm begging. I'll do your case reports for a week."

Jake perked up. "Really?" Amy nodded vigorously.

She knew she had him. Jake knew it, too. He groaned, but nodded.

Amy made a tiny shriek, charging her partner. She hugged him so tightly, Jake wondered if she took a seminar for that, too. But he couldn't be annoyed. He slowly placed his arms around her shoulders, and liked the way she felt against his chest.

He wondered briefly if Amy felt his heart plummet. He couldn't save this moment, cherish a silly memory knowing that this was_ just_ a favor. When Jake thought about it logically, it all made sense. Amy didn't have many friends, especially male friends. Jake was the clear choice. It didn't make him feel any better or less foolish.

"So – " Amy quickly released Jake, moving back towards the cutting board near the stove. "I already thought of a back story and everything." Jake masked a scoff by clearing his throat.

"Proceed, detective." Jake reached for his wine.

"Clearly you were in love with me since we met." She tossed some hair over her shoulder and broke apart some garlic cloves. Jake choked on his drink, his eyes squeezed tight. He was thankful her back was turned.

"I was always on the fence, of course." She turned back to him, and the smile she gave Jake made him feel like he was choking all over again. "Of course," he agreed.

Amy peeled the layering from the cloves as she spoke animatedly. Jake couldn't focus. She looked so at ease. She wasn't the tense, stiff mess that he saw at work every day. This was the woman from the rooftop, wasting peanuts and laughing along to his jokes, not being the blunt of them.

"... So you don't have to touch me or anything. My mom knows how _anti_ PDA I am, so it's all going to work in our favor. Just – please try not to make fun of _everything_ I say. I don't think my mom would get your humor as well as I do."

Jake blinked, only catching the end of her enthusiastic rant. "Got it." He nodded, not at all _'getting it'_.

"Okay," her voice was breathy, and her smile was bright. "Do you have any ideas? Since you are the_ king_ of back stories."

Jake shook his head. He didn't really trust himself to say something he _wouldn't_ regret later. Amy turned back to the counter. Her chicken smelt funny, and she held the cutting knife all wrong, but Jake didn't want to tease her about it. There was so many things messed up with the whole situation.

Amy, his partner, Amy, went from just Santiago, the know it all he fought with daily. She wasn't just his rival or competitor anymore. With one serious talk from Charles, she become something entirely different. Something he wanted. It was hard enough to admit his feelings to himself, he would never be ready to admit them to her.

"You're unbelievable," he let the words tumble out with a deep sigh that accented his admiration. Then he froze.

Amy kept her back turned, chopping pieces of garlic. There was a small, barely there smile on her face. She refused to let him see.

Though his comment was meant to prove just how insane she was, it seemed to have the opposite effect on Amy. She liked figuring out the mysteries behind everything he said. What kind of detective would she be if she didn't take advantage of subtle clues?

"I – I mean, _you're_ – " Jake fumbled to rephrase, but was thankfully saved by the front door creaking open. The two paused, staring at each other.

* * *

Meeting the parents, or half of the parents wasn't as scary as Jake thought. He had never gotten that far before with a woman. Introductions meant commitment, and Jake Peralta would have none of that. But as Amy introduced him to her mother, seeing the appeased smile and warmth the older woman radiated, Jake wished this was for real.

Mrs. Santiago, who insisted on being called Maria, or mom – Jake gulped at that – was the exact opposite of Amy. Jake genuinely liked her. He liked her even more when she pulled a large take out bag onto the dining room table.

"Oh thank god." He muttered under his breath, receiving a nudge in the rib.

Maria Santiago chuckled at that, winking at him, slyly.

"Mom, I made stuffed chicken breasts, like you taught me." Amy tried really hard not to whine. Jake could see her brows pucker and her mouth turn down.

"We don't want to kill your boyfriend, Aims," she teased.

Both Amy and Jake tensed up at the word. _Boyfriend_ seemed so serious.

"Come, come. Tell me everything." Mrs. Santiago sighed, sitting at the table, pulling out containers and paper plates.

Jake took the seat across from Amy's mom. The woman looked a little young to have eight children, and the fact that Amy looked nothing like her made Jake wish he could have met her dad, too.

Throughout dinner he listened to stories about when Amy was a kid. Jake couldn't remember the last time he smiled so much. He realized, to his surprise, Amy talked about him. A lot. Mrs. Santiago knew how hard he tried to keep Amy at the nine-nine when she was thinking of transferring. She knew about the horrible date he planned, and was shocked to find out that Amy didn't have a bad time.

"I knew it would happen, eventually." Maria smiled warmly. Her chin resting on the back of her hand.

The three had finished dinner, Amy was in the kitchen wrapping up the food she cooked. Jake could tell she was annoyed that no one dared eat it, including herself.

"Knew what would happen?" Jake asked, straightening out his plaid shirt.

"You and Amy. She is very fond of you. I think she looks up to you as much as your captain."

Jake cleared his throat while shaking his head. "No way. She is always telling_ me_ what to do."

Mrs. Santiago smiled, her dark eyes – the only similarity he could link with Amy – staring intently into his. "A mother knows."

* * *

It was the only explanation Jake got. It had him thinking even after she left, giving him a hug just as tightly as her daughter. Now he knew where she got it from. Jake stayed behind, helping Amy dry dishes and clear off her table.

"Sorry I didn't eat your stuffed chicken." He offered with a small smile.

Amy tried to repress her own. "It's fine. It was bond to turn out like Thanksgiving anyway."

She handed Jake the last glass to dry and wiped her hands on her jeans after turning off the tap. Amy turned to face Jake, a soft look in her eyes. "Mom likes you."

Jake became very interested in the wine glass, methodically wiping until it shined under the sink light. "Well, I like her, too." His voice wasn't meant to come out so low and intimate.

Amy looked down, scratching her temple. "Do you think she'll like Ian?" Jake wondered.

She seemed to really think about it. Amy didn't answer right away. She took her time placing the glass back in her cabinet, relieving Jake of his drying towel, and shut the kitchen light off, knowing Jake would follow her through the arch.

Jake's eyes roamed over the living room, looking for his jacket. He didn't think he was going to get an answer, and that was probably for the best. He didn't need to know everything about this secret guy in Amy's life.

"Not as much as she likes you." Amy spoke softly. She searched his eyes, to see if he was okay with that or not. To both their relief, Jake beamed.

"I'm awesome with parents." He declared, raising his hand for a high five. Amy rolled her eyes while meeting his awaiting palm.

Amy was more surprised than Jake, when instead of dropped her arm, she linked her fingers through his. His brown eyes lit up, fear and confusion mixed with something Amy only saw _once_ from him. She trained her eyes back onto their joined hands. Her skin darker than his, his hand larger than hers.

"Thank you, Peralta. For everything." Amy wouldn't look at him, but Jake nodded along, staring at her the whole time.

He cleared his throat while waiting for her to let go first. Amy did with a blush. "I'll see you bright and early." He insisted, spotting his leather jacket on the coat rack and didn't bother to put it on as Amy opened the door. He was too warm, the cold welcoming.

"Good night." Amy smiled as she watched him jog down the stairs towards the exit.

The next afternoon was a slow one. Amy couldn't seem to focus on any paperwork, which was good, since it was all Jake's. She couldn't stop thinking about the previous night, how well Jake fit in, how much her mom liked him.

She glanced over at her partner. He was in the middle of a pencil-stick drum solo, Boyle his avid fan. Amy rolled her eyes and pushed one folder aside, looking for her aspirin bottle.

"Maria!" Jake beamed, his voice loud and more sugary than Amy had ever heard.

She snapped her head up, shocked to she her mother standing in the middle of the precinct. "Mom?"

"Hi sweetheart." Mrs. Santiago smiled innocently at her daughter.

"What are you doing here?" Amy demanded.

Jake strolled up to Amy's desk. His jacket hanging off one arm, while the other snaked across Maria Santiago's neck. "She called me. We're going to lunch."

"_What_?" Was all Amy could muster.

"Jake told me how busy you were, and I was in the city, thought I'd surprise you. He offered to take me to lunch. Such a sweet one you have here." Mrs. Santiago patted Jake's chest, causing Amy to nearly hyperventilate. Jake seemed to stand taller with the compliment.

"Bye Amy!" Jake sang, guiding _her_ mother towards the entrance. "We'll bring you back something." He assured over his shoulder.

Amy crossed her arms, leaning back so far in her chair that it rolled backwards into Scully. She couldn't even bark out an apology she was so mad.

Jake dashed back in. Amy waited for the punch line. Instead, he scooped up a pair of sunglasses off his cluttered desk. It set Amy's teeth on edge how effortless it was for him to find anything in the mess.

"Forgot these," he explained securing the wing on his shirt's pocket. He looked proudly down at his partner. "I told you I was good with parents!" He explained before running back out the door.

Amy groaned to herself, letting her head fall onto her desk. "Unbelievable."


End file.
